A Very Mystrade Christmas
by DoctorOCD
Summary: 25 days until Christmas but will Greg be alone for the festive days to come? An advent of Mystrade that continue throughout the Christmas season. Rating could change but I do love a bit of fluff for the holidays. Short chapters.
1. December 1st - A Text

**_Firstly, I must say, however much I may want to, I do not own Sherlock Holmes or any other recognised characters.  
My beta, the amazing Lydia, my best friend is to thank for any adventurous vocabulary and amazing spellings and any mistakes are mine.  
I shall be (trying) to post a chapter each day as I'm going for the advent effect but... who knows?  
I don't like to ramble so, enjoy and on with the Mystrade!_**

**_-0-_**

December 1st - A Text

Gregory Lestrade was sat in his office finishing off paperwork in the almost dark; only the light from the lamp and a slight glow from the window was being cast across the desk. His coffee had long since gone cold and the computer had given up flashing his Scotland Yard screensaver.

With a flourish, he signed his name at the bottom of the file he had been checking and dropped his pen unceremoniously while he flicked the folder closed with an unsatisfying slap.

Greg pushed the file away from him as he leant back in his chair, letting a loud yawn echo around the room. He stretched his arms above his head and checked the clock on the wall opposite. He just made out the hands pointing out that it was very late. 11pm.

Well, he didn't have anything to go home to tonight. Or ever. But today was especially dull and had lowered his mood considerably. It was the first of December and the thoughts that hit him with this information had been cruel on his conscious.

This would be his first Christmas alone in fifteen years. Greg slumped further into his chair.

His phone flashed, causing the room to glow an almost blue colour and cast menacing shadows. He picked up and unlocked his phone to find a new text message from one Mycroft Holmes.

You deserve some rest, Detective. -M

Greg couldn't help the small smile that played on his lips. He and Mycroft had become friends over the years since Sherlock had started working on cases and Mycroft always knew how to cheer him up.

Of course they had gotten around to asking each other to use their given names and Mycroft had accepted, even if that meant using his whole given name. However, it seemed that Mycroft resorted to using Greg's title when being especially pushy.

Lestrade glanced over at the pile of paperwork that was yet to be completed and decided to leave it until tomorrow when he was thinking properly and not sleep deprived.

He placed both palms on his desk and pushed himself into a standing position with a groan. God, he definitely wasn't as young as he used to be. Then that thought made him feel a little more lonely. He hadn't a chance of meeting anyone new to fill the emptiness and spend lonely nights with at this age.

There is a car waiting to take you home. Take care of yourself, Gregory. -M

There it was again. The perfect timing to lift his spirits once more. Mycroft was a godsend, and that wasn't the first time he had thought that. The man knew everything and always made him feel better.

Lestrade pulled on his coat and stepped out of the office, locking the door behind him. He left the Yard with a spring in his step and he entered the waiting sleek, black car that waited. There wasn't anyone else in it so Mycroft must have been busy. That just made the texts even more special if Mycroft found time in his hectic schedule to look out for Greg.

When the car pulled up outside of his apartment block, he sighed happily and left the vehicle with a smile on his face and a reminder to himself to invite Mycroft round for Christmas.


	2. December 2nd - A Note

December 2nd - A Note

Greg had taken Mycroft's advice and had gone straight to his really warm, very comfortable, extremely inviting bed. It had been the best nights sleep he had had in a long time. He sent an appreciative text to him this morning to thank him but he hadn't answered so Greg assumed he was occupied. Mycroft was a very important and busy man, after all.

Greg made it to work before any of his officers and relished in the quiet before chiseling down the nightmare that was the paperwork he had left the night before.

Before he had even thought about venturing into his office, he took a detour to the old coffee machine in the break room and set it up to make a hot cup of crap. He drank it in large gulps and he liked the way it burnt his throat but didn't quite hurt.

As he finished drinking, he caught sight of Sally and he checked his watch. Time for work he thought as he pushed back from the counter and sauntered into the open offices.

He spotted Anderson and Sally brush passed each other and Sally look back at him. He should feel sorry for her, it was obvious he was playing her, but he couldn't bring himself to care because she knew he was married. A married man playing games with another woman wasn't going to end well for anyone.

Lestrade sighed, shaking his head sadly, and turned on his heels to pursue those folders stacked high on his desk. What he didn't expect to see was a clear desk and something that looked like a post card left in their place. He stood in the door shocked for a moment, then wandered forward cautiously.

He sat in his chair, took the card between his fingers, and leant back to read the message left for him.

_I thought you would appreciate the break._  
_Coffee, as you say, is on me. Is tomorrow noon acceptable?_

The note was obviously written using expensive stationary; only the very best of pens and the steadiest of hands could complete those curls so perfect and neat.

He smiled down at the paper and it's words, as he always seemed to do when Mycroft was so sweet without even knowing. He was being courteous and kind as was his exterior persona but Greg was extremely grateful all the same. He would definitely have to invite Mycroft for Christmas as a thank you.

Mycroft had mentioned once that since his father had passed that 'mummy' wasn't always in the best state to entertain guests and, therefore, didn't usually celebrate. His work didn't stop and so he didn't. Maybe Greg could book him or something? Make an appointment?

Anyway, Mycroft had asked him out for coffee. He picked up his phone and sent a quick reply.

They had become quite good friends over the years that they had known each other and they often did go for chats. After the subject of Sherlock had become trite and repetitive, they had started to talk about their own problems and what they were up too. Of course Mycroft couldn't go into much detail, but Greg enjoyed the fact that he was one of the very few that saw Mycroft relaxed and as talkative as he was.

_Tomorrow is perfect. Thank you. -Greg_


	3. December 3rd - A Name

December 3rd - A Name

Lestrade had been looking forward to coffee with his friend for the whole 28 hours that he'd had the invite. They only ever sat and talked when they met over a lunch or a time they were both free. Day or night, but he always enjoyed Mycroft's company and had many treasured memories from the fun they'd had over the years.

He walked into their usual café a little early than was probably necessary, but he had nowhere else to be over lunch unless he got an urgent call from the yard, and that was unlikely as they had put away the most notorious gang's leaders last week. That should put off big scale crime for a little while at least.

Greg sauntered over to the counter and smiled at the usual woman taking drinks orders. "Today shall be black coffee with two sugars, and…" He checked his watch. It was two minutes until the hour and Mycroft was never early or late. He was always precisely on time as all best politicians are. "Your best tea, love, thanks." he added, Mycroft would appreciate him getting his too.

Greg obviously knew the tea was awful here compared to what Mr. Government was used to but he never seemed to mind.

He sat at the table in the corner as they always did. Greg had found it hilarious when Mycroft explained that he did actually sit in the corner so he could view everyone and they could see him. No one could surprise him from behind, either. Just like a proper spy. Well, Greg still hadn't had proof that Mycroft wasn't a spy and he liked to tease him a little about it on occasion.

Right on cue, Mycroft entered the café with his usual grace, swinging his umbrella by his side. Greg couldn't seem to remember a time when he hadn't seen Mycroft with that umbrella. He seemed to hold onto it like it was a life line. Perhaps it was. Greg would pluck up the courage to ask him about it one day.

He stood to greet the man with a friendly handshake and smiles as they both sat. "Hey, Mycroft." Greg said as they took to their chairs.

"Good afternoon, Gregory." Mycroft replied politely as he picked up the cup of tea and tipped it just slightly in a gesture of gratitude before sipping slowly.

Greg smiled at Mycroft's choice to use his full name as he always had. Only his mum called him Gregory and sometimes his sister when she was being annoying or wanted something. He hated it. But when Mycroft said it, it just seemed to fit. The syllables just rolled off the tongue and Gregory couldn't held the little quirk of his lips every time.

Mycroft quirked an eyebrow at Lestrade's silence as if questioning his musings. "Anything the matter, Gregory?" He seemed more amused than concerned.

There it was again. Gregory. He looked up and flashed a grin at the other man before answering innocently, "No. Nothing's the matter at all, Myc." He hid his giggle in his coffee.

The other man looked quite confused for a few seconds but soon caught on and chuckled lightly, "Quite."

Greg took that as an affirmative that Mycroft didn't mind and they resumed their chat and talked about everything yet nothing as usual. Greg didn't get back to work until 4 o'clock.

_**-0-**_

_**I had quite a problem with this one but I haven't the foggiest why. :s **_

_**Thanks to my awesome beta, Lydia, we now have this :D**_

_**DoctorOCD**_


	4. December 4th - A Smile

December 4th - A Smile

So much for thinking the criminal minds of London would stay away. Greg had been called in very early for the mysterious death of a man with no identification on him, no records, and no dentals. It was as if the man simply did not exist. That sort of suspicion called for the Detective Inspector's expertise.

Greg drove to the crime scene and pulled in as close as possible. He walked through the crowd that was trickling in and ducked under the tape.

The crime scene was inside a house that had a 'for sale' sign up, therefore it was vacant. Not quite the perfect choice of murder method but the killer had done a pretty good job of covering up any evidence by the sounds of it.

DI Lestrade entered the building and attempted to sort out the mass of officers. He gave them orders: some to man the growing crowds or get rid of them completely if possible; some to get statements off any potential witnesses; some to do a door by door investigation. All to get them off his back while he checked out the body himself.

Greg was quite shocked to find himself looking at the body sat upright in a living room chair - furniture came with the house - looking for all the world like he had just sat down to finish his cuppa (on the coffee table) in peace. He didn't look dead until you checked the mess that was the back of his skull. Killed execution style. One bullet to the back of the head. Bang!

The deceased was wearing dark blue jeans and a black sweatshirt. He didn't look at all like someone would have reason to shoot him, never mind something that looked like a mob hit.

He was left alone in the room as he had requested, his officers bickering about who's doing what really wasn't very professional. So when the door opened behind him without any greeting he immediately came to the conclusion that it was Sherlock.

Greg didn't bother turning around, "Alright. How did you get in this time?" He asked with a sigh, he tried to sound irritated but it never worked on Sherlock anyway and he didn't much care as long as he was here to help. This one was going to be tough.

Whoever was behind him cleared their throat and Greg stood straighter and turned, that wasn't Sherlock. "Well, Doctor Watson may very well have believed that I am the murderer and so was here all along. I can't say I am very sorry about planting that image. Sherlock, with his dramatics, likes to tell everyone that I am the government and so can go anywhere I please. But I, personally, like to believe I can simply charm my way in with my good looks." He said all of this with the most serious face and Greg tried holding a straight face too but failed.

Lestrade let out a lungful of air and giggled. It definitely wasn't professional or proper to laugh at a crime scene but no one else was here and Mycroft had actually tried to joke. Mycroft's features twitched as he tried to hold back his own laughter, only to give in and chuckle. Greg loved it when Mycroft laughed. He had a feeling the other man didn't have enough fun.

Mycroft was the first to recover and simply smiled while he said, "I think I may be able to help you, Detective."

Greg looked up at that and smiled back. His insides warmed at the calm, peaceful look on the other man's face. It suited him; being a friend. Greg was glad that he had Mycroft and that Mycroft - with the usual icy and emotionless exterior - felt comfortable enough to relax around him. And Greg loved that smile. The smile that seemed to be just for him.


	5. December 5th - A Bad Day

December 5th - A Bad Day

Yesterday had been amazing. The case had been solved very quickly with Mycroft's help and Greg enjoyed every moment that his friend was with him. It was quite strange to be at work with him but it worked and it was a great day.

The two had to part ways when the case was solved as Lestrade had even more paperwork to do and Mycroft had to get back to whatever the hell he did. Greg felt a little sad when Mycroft left and that just seemed to amplify as the next day went by.

Greg lay on his couch staring at the ceiling with a bottle of beer next to him on the table which he kept taking sips of to rid himself of the memories of the earlier that day. He couldn't help but remember, though.

_Being called back in at 3 o'clock in the morning, when he had pretty much just gotten home, was just great. The yard had gotten a phone call from suspected kidnappers. It wasn't their division but they were the only ones available and so had taken the case._

_Children. They had taken a boy and a girl from their home and demanded ransom from their parents._

Bottling up all of his emotions, he reached out for his beer again but knocked it off the desk and it crashed to the floor.

_One suspect. Two suspects. Three suspects. A gang. What could they possibly get from taking two innocent children? Why? There was no point to anything. Time to call Sherlock._

Lestrade rubbed hard at his eyes as if trying to manually remove the images from behind his eyelids. It didn't work so he sighed and sat up, looking down emotionlessly at the mess the spilt beer had made of his carpet.

_Of course Sherlock had found all the evidence they needed to find the kids, and they set about ambushing them. Warehouses on the Thames. Of course it was. Cliché, much?_

_Sherlock had deduced that they would be in the farthest room at the back of the building and so they had listened and taken his advice willingly. He had never been wrong before, right? Well, he was this time._

He tried to squeeze his eyes shut tight to stop his tears. Greg's hands were shaking where he held them in fists against his legs and he leant forward, taking a breath.

_They had stormed the place fast and accurate as per Sherlock's instruction. It had turned into a gun battle. Man down. Two men lost. The last men standing in the kidnapping gang had stopped shooting at the officers and pointed their guns at the children kneeling before them. Greg stepped in front to try and calm the situation. His priority was to get the kids out safely._

"_Put down your weapon." He ordered direct and level._

_The man stood behind the boy pushed the nuzzle of the gun harder at the boy's head. "Where's the fun in that?" He asked with a menacing smile._

_How sick were these men? How sick would they have to be to see any fun in this? Threatening children. Stupid. "What do you want? You know these children's parents haven't got what you asked them for so let them go and we can settle this like men." He tried bargaining, his gun never wavering._

Greg let out a breath and took his phone out. There was one person he wanted to see right now and that person would make everything better.

He didn't need to scroll down his contacts because the number had been placed at the top automatically as they had been talking a lot about anything and nothing.

_Sherlock always had to butt in when things were running smoothly but everyone assumed he knew what he was doing. He stepped forward, making himself known, and stared at the man who was talking._

"_You're putting up quite the show. You need money to fund your budding relationship with a banker at the Royal Bank of Scotland. These goons promised you the money but they won't pay up." He pointed a long, pale finger at the other man holding his gun against the girl. "He wants to use the money to go on a permanent vacation to some sunny, isolated place to get away from his controlling mother who he, by the way, still lives with."_

"Mycroft." Greg all but whispered down the phone.

Mycroft seemed concerned with Greg's tone. "Gregory? Are you okay?"

He held back a sob as he answered, "No. Can you come round?"

Mycroft had been to Greg's before. They had had takeaway and watched telly as they chatted cheerfully. "Of course. I'll be there shortly." He replied quickly and hung up.

_Both men that held guns looked completely startled at the Consulting Detective's knowledge. One dropped his gun in surprise and the other's aim faltered. Greg was ready to take a sigh of relief when the well dressed man at the back of the room, away from the action, giggled and stepped forward._

"_How cute." He said, his voice laced with hatred as he pulled out his own weapon and shot the little girl._

_The shot was a trigger to a lot of movement and Greg was lost in the sheer horror of seeing the girl slip sideways and hit the ground hard. He rushed to her side as the rest of his team took the gang members in cuffs. Sally was seeing to the boy who was crying in her arms, staring at his sister._

At the knock on the door, Greg got up and padded over to it. He opened it to a concerned looking Mycroft who took in Gregory's appearance in one glance. Mycroft stepped in and wrapped his arms around his friend as Greg finally gave in and cried into his jacket. He clung to Mycroft's back and suddenly found himself sat on his couch again. He curled into his friend and let out everything he had held in all day.

They didn't need words. Greg needed comforting and Mycroft was there to hold him while he broke down.

Life wasn't fair but Mycroft was there to make everything better. Always.


	6. December 6th - A Moment

_**This chapter has had to be uploaded unbeta'd (is that a word?) so any mistakes are mine and now I'm really self conscious about it and I can't decide if I like it or not. Reviews are always cherished and advice taken on board! :)**_

_**DoctorOCD**_

_**-0-**_

December 6th - A Moment

Greg Lestrade woke up in his bed with no memory of how he got there the night before. He was still dressed in his clothes but he didn't have his shoes on anymore.

It was bright outside so it must have been at least 10 o'clock. He groaned as he turned over, only to find there was a cup of steaming hot coffee on his bedside table. He shifted and sat up, leaning against the head board. Reaching over to take the cup with both hands to keep them warm, he noticed a note underneath it. Greg picked that up too and read the neat swirls that were written on it.

_Gregory,_  
_You were very upset last night, quite rightfully so, and you seemed to tire yourself out when letting out your emotions. I hope you don't mind that I put you to bed and took the liberty of staying over. I didn't want to leave you in such a state. I made you coffee and will be in the living room when you wake._  
_Mycroft_

Greg smiled as he read it and got out of bed. He felt a warmth and comfort flow through him as he thought how Mycroft had stayed to make sure he was okay. He also sipped his coffee and sighed as it trickled down his throat. That hit the spot. Mycroft was so sweet.

Mycroft was in the living room as he had said he would be. He was sat on the couch looking very much like he was at home. He had taken off his jacket and waistcoat and rolled up his sleeves. It was quite strange for Greg to see the Government Official so relaxed and rumpled. It was rather adorable.

"Morning." Greg greeted and chuckled when he actually startled Mycroft.

Mycroft stood and turned, straightening his clothes and running a hand through his hair. "Good morning, Gregory. I, um… Trust you slept well?"

"Yes, I did." Greg answered, "Thank you." He added and held up his cup.

"That isn't a problem." Mycroft smiled shyly, "I'm always here for you, Gregory." He said earnestly but looked away and down at his hands.

Greg nearly laughed again at how cute that looked. "Yeah, I appreciate it. I like you being around."

Mycroft lifted his head and looked back at Greg. He brought his hand up to scratch the back of his neck as he shifted on his feet and grinned. The nervous look was the complete opposite to his reputation as the ice man.

They had been stood at opposite sides of the room since Greg walked in so Greg walked over to the couch and sat, patting the seat next to him and turning on the television.

Mycroft had enough room on his side of the couch but he sat close to Greg, their thighs touching. Greg turned a crimson colour and he cleared his throat and put his cup down.

"Did you sleep on here?"

"I did catch a few hours but you know I don't hold normal sleeping hours."

"Well, yeah, but you could have… I don't know. Taken the end of my bed?" He was digging himself a hole and he knew it. Of course Mycroft wouldn't take the end of his bed. What was he thinking?

Mycroft turned to face Gregory and stiffened beside him, "No, I couldn't possibly have imposed. Especially as you were asleep already. I would feel I was being very forward." He knew he was babbling; very unlike the intellectual individual he was.

Greg finally turned to face Mycroft and their faces were now very close and his breath hitched. "Uh… Breakfast?" He whispered.

Mycroft looked just as caught up as the other and it took him a moment to find the words to reply. The television suddenly blared music from an advertisement, breaking the moment. "N-No. I would love to stay but I have work. Meetings to get to." He got up and started rearranging his clothes and pulling his jacket back on. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay and were not alone this morning."

He turned back to a startled Greg and took his hand and squeezed it. "I have tomorrow afternoon free if you are not adverse to dinner?"

Greg smiled up at him and returned the pressure on his hand. "I'd love to." He answered as he nodded.

So with dinner arrangements made and goodbye's said, Greg closed his door and leant against it, sighing. When had he started feeling things for Mycroft? He was his best friend. Best friends don't find each other's eyes mesmerising or their looks adorable!

He had dug himself in deep and he hadn't even notice it happen.

**_-0-_**

**_Thanks to AnyaMaia and BlueMoonOnTheRise for reviewing ! You made me smile :D_**

**_And thanks AGAIN to Lydia for motivating me and pushing me to finish my chapters (I'm SO behind!). It's so hard to not procrastinate. Especially when shiny things and pens are so fun ;)_**


	7. December 7th - A Dinner Date?

A VERY MYSTRADE CHRISTMAS

_**Ugh. I really don't like what I've done with this chapter. I kind of wrote this while half asleep, right now. So it hasn't been beta'd. I may very well change it tomorrow but a deadline is a deadline.**_

_**Well, let's hope that you guys like it to make up for my pessimistic thoughts.**_

_**Please review and criticise. I prefer suggestions than no comments at all.**__**  
**_

_**DoctorOCD**_

_**-o-**_

December 7th - A Dinner. Date?

Flipping his phone between his hands, Greg paced his kitchen back and forth. Nerves were vibrating in his every muscle and he couldn't keep still. This was stupid. Why was he nervous about meeting Mycroft? They had met up loads of times for dinners and lunches. They had even invited each other round to their homes and sat watching the football, even that time when Greg forced Mycroft to watch the Harry Potter films.

If he fussed over leaving any longer he would be late. He had spent more than an hour just trying to pick something suitable to wear. He always wore something casual if they went out to dinner but for some reason nothing seemed good enough to wear.

Now, Greg was pacing the kitchen in his best outfit - well, the best he could put together from his not very extensive wardrobe - but he still felt very underdressed. When he got to the fridge and was about to turn on his heel again, his phone buzzed in his hand.

_Whatever you wear will be fine, Gregory. -M_

Greg stared at his phone for a good few minutes. That man really did know everything. How the hell did he do that? Oh God, if he knew everything would he know about what Greg was feeling? Now he was panicking about a whole other problem. He was acting like this hole thing was a date. Idiot. This was exactly the same as all those other times, only this time he had _feelings._

He took a deep breath and as he let it out he straightened his clothes and left his house.

_Fine. I'm on my way. How the hell did you know I was deciding what to wear?! -Greg_

_I know everything. -M_

Greg chuckled to himself at that reply, getting into his car to drive to the restaurant Mycroft had chosen. It wasn't that far and soon Greg was with Mycroft, entering the restaurant.

They had greeted each other as usual, a handshake, a smile, and some complimentary words. Greg had blushed when Mycroft complimented his shirt and he cleared his throat before returning the pleasantries and taking his seat.

"So you know everything, huh?" Greg asked with a raised eyebrow as the other man sat down.

Mycroft looked at Greg, his face completely serious. "Yes, I do. Is there a problem?" He replied almost threateningly.

Greg leant away, utterly taken aback by Mycroft's tone. When Mycroft's face softened and he got the joke he breathed out a relieved chuckle. He would usually catch onto Mycroft's jokes, usually because they were so bad, but he had missed it then and Mycroft didn't miss Greg's terrified expression.

Mycroft wondered if there was something wrong as he couldn't read Gregory's emotions as he could everyone else's. Unlike his brother, he could pin point exact emotions and could manipulate and trigger them to his every whim. Everyone's except Greg's. It was like there was something stopping him from simply reading it from him. He wanted Greg to actually tell him how he was feeling and what he was up to, even if the information was at the push of a very hypothetical button. Dear Lord, he had feelings for Gregory.

The rest of evening consisted of light conversation full of nervousness and fidgety behaviour for both parties.

Greg's thoughts ran along the lines of, 'God! How do I tell him?" And Mycroft's thought patterns were on the same subject, 'Is this what attraction feels like? Lust, perhaps? Good God, how do I tell him? Do I tell him?'

These thoughts were suddenly put on hold when Mycroft phone beeped twice and he looked solemn as he pulled it out of his pocket. Two beeps meant national emergency.

This Crisis would have to be put on hold and sorted at a later date. Thank God for thinking time. "I am so sorry, Gregory. I must go." He genuinely was sad about leaving though.

"I know. Work. I'm the same. I understand." Gregory felt he hid his disappointment well and stood to shake hands with Mycroft and they left. Mycroft seemed to be on a tab or something. Greg didn't bother asking.

Greg saw Mycroft off in his sleek black car and drove his own worn one home. He needed to think. He needed a beer, then he needed to think.


	8. December 8th - A Chance

_**Did I make it in time? It's, like, midnight and I didn't know if it would say 8th or 9th :o**_

_**This is sort of a break chapter.**_

_**-o-**_

December 8th - A Chance

Mycroft hadn't concentrated at all in the meeting about the urgent matter he was to attend. He was quite shocked that his mind, usually so adept at thinking along multiple lines of enquiry, was just stuck on one thought.

_Am I falling for my best friend?_

He hadn't much had a friend before and so it was quite confusing. He had, of course, had to fake friendships and relationships to get what he needed during his years of keeping Britain in safe hands. This was completely different, though. He had a real friend of six - already?! - years, and he enjoyed being with Gregory but was what he was feeling love? Lust? Adoration? Was he just overreacting and this was the next step in a friendship?

He quickly dismissed that last idea as completely out of the question. He may not have had a friend before but he was damn well sure that they weren't supposed to think of them in such… compromising positions.

That thought process had him squirming and he mentally ticked off that he was definitely physically attracted to Gregory.

Now, the next question. An explanation. Why had he not felt like this before? There must have been a point at which these feelings were triggered. So when was it?

He hadn't felt like this last week. Was it the Christmas season, then? All this fuss for one day in the year: all the shopping; the presents; the songs; the atmosphere. Everything. This time that was so widely advertised for families to get together and share happy memories. Was all the 'Christmas cheer' getting to him?

His family - Sherlock - had their own plans and so he was to be on his own this year as he was last year. He didn't much care for the act of gift exchanging but that was most likely because he had no one to share the experience with.

He would very much like for Gregory to join him this Christmas. It would be his friend's first Christmas without his wife - ex-wife - in fifteen years. They could spend that time together instead of being alone over the holidays.

So was that it? Did he want Gregory because he had become available? These feelings must have been buried under the surface for so long and only come to light the other day. Oh gosh.

That morning Mycroft had left in a hurry because they had been so close and he didn't know if he'd be able to not just lean in and press their lips together. He thought it best to leave and understand why he'd had those thoughts but he had seen Gregory's face and hadn't wanted to leave without saying something else. What had come out was an invite to dinner the next evening but he didn't know why he'd asked.

During the dinner he had been fidgety and he was certain Gregory would see how affected he was by his presence and guess what was wrong. However, Gregory had seemed quieter than usual, only speaking when spoken too and Mycroft had even caught him staring at one point. So did Gregory realise after all? Did he even feel the same?

Should he tell Gregory? Maybe he really did feel the same and they could work towards something of a relationship. His stomach flipped at that and he knew he would be happy with that predicament.

He would have to say something eventually and he would rather be rejected knowing Gregory would never give up their friendship but a chance at something more that he had clearly wanted for a long time, rather than never know and carry on feeling so… awkward all the time.

Maybe he could invite Gregory round for Christmas dinner.

_**-o-**_

_**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed! Lot's of love inspires me to keep writing :D**_

_**DoctorOCD**_


	9. December 9th - A Mixed Signal

December 9th - A Mixed Signal

Mycroft texted him earlier in the day and asked to meet him.

He had been fretting over the date, non-date thing since he left the restaurant and he was worried about what Mycroft wanted to talk about.

He had analysed everything that happened over and over in his head. That's what the Holmeses did, right?

Greg had sat there and stared at the other man. Mycroft must have noticed because he hadn't said a word unless Mycroft pulled him out of his musings. He bet the British Government thought him completely weird now.

He sighed and thought ahead. What he hadn't noticed until he got home was that Mycroft was ringing his fingers when they weren't occupied with cutlery. An odd vision to Greg when he had seen him deal with the likes of Sherlock and (on one lucky occasion) the bloody prime minister with certain grace and subtlety.

What did Mycroft have to worry about? Did he notice how Greg was and think something was wrong? Oh God, had he figured it out? Crap.

Okay. Breath. It wasn't all that bad, right? If Mycroft had a problem with it, wouldn't he have said something? Yeah, Mycroft would have told him that he didn't think of him that way. He would have smiled that damn fake smile and told him it was fine but it wouldn't happen. Instead Greg had watched him become a nervous wreck - well, a wreck in terms of Mycroft Holmes.

Anyhow, he would find out soon. He was sat waiting for Mycroft to turn up at his flat. The wait still felt huge, though.

Mycroft had given up trying to rationalise and put order to the chaos that was his mind and texted Gregory before his nerves got the better of him and he stopped himself.

He had insisted upon meeting Gregory at his own flat. That way if he had an adverse reaction to what Mycroft was going to tell him, he had the upper hand and felt a bit more relaxed in his own territory, as it were.

Now he was on his way and wondering why the hell he hadn't just said he would show up tomorrow. He wasn't usually perturbed by anything but he now understood that when it came to Gregory Lestrade, nothing he knew before was anything worth going on. The man threw the figurative rule book into a supernova.

He took a deep breath to calm himself and stepped out of his car, nodding for the driver to go on.

He sauntered up to Gregory's door, knocked, straightened his tie, and ran a hand through his hair - on with the show, was it?

Greg had been sat on the edge of his seat, picking at his nails, as he waited for Mycroft to turn up. His worst fear was that Mycroft had kept quiet to be nice but now would break up their friendship because it was weird or something.

When Mycroft finally knocked on the door, Greg's mind was on stand by with all excuses for Mycroft not to leave on bad terms.

He jumped up to answer the door. "Hey, Mycroft." He greeted a little unsure of what to expect with Mycroft odd posture.

Mycroft had been so scared for the first time in, what felt like, ever. That fear was replaced, however, by confusion at Gregory's obvious nervous disposition.

"Gregory." He smiled and stepped past Greg when he was invited in. "I am sorry for the sudden call but I needed to say something and it is to be said in person."

A whole alarm system played in Greg's head at that and he truly believed that Mycroft had come to call off their friendship of six years because of some stupid feelings that made him jumpy and fidgety. He was about to protest when Mycroft carried on talking.

"I must say it face to face as I am afraid if done otherwise I will surely lose my ability to say anything at all and the situation will be left and not dealt with properly. This, I really do think you need to hear." Mycroft was aware that when he was nervous or unsure of something, he used more words or big words to compensate. This time it was more words and he knew he was skirting around the point of the conversation.

"Mycroft, please. I know what you're going to say. I'm truly sorry but I don't know what happened." Greg tried to finally explain himself before Mycroft went the whole way and declared them no longer friends. It was clue to him that Mycroft was talking around his actual meaning to be polite.

Mycroft was baffled by Gregory's interruption and didn't understand it at all. "Gregory?" He asked, turning and looking at the other man properly, "What is it you think I am going to say?"

Greg frowned, "You made it clear, Mycroft." He stared down at his feet, "You don't want to be my friend because you figured out how I feel. I understand, you don't need to be nice and pretend it's okay." He was on the verge of tears, though. He didn't want Mycroft to leave, obviously. He wanted to throw his arms around him and keep him forever. Woah, okay, that was new. But true.

"You… I… How you feel?" Mycroft now became visibly confused, his eyebrow coming together and a slight down turn of his lips. "I came here to tell you how I feel." He clarified.

"Well, yeah. I get it, Myc. You came to tell me that you feel terrible, you don't feel the same. I understand." Greg looked up at Mycroft properly as he said it but he didn't sound as sure as his words were meant to be.

Don't feel the same? Mycroft nearly fell over at the realisation but instead he chuckled and shook his head. They were both idiots.

Greg startled at Mycroft's behaviour and his frown deepened. He became a little angry, then. Why would Mycroft be so cruel now? Because Greg knew and he didn't have to act all nice about it? "What?" He demanded.

Mycroft didn't answer him, though. Just smiled, walked right up to Greg and lifted his chin with an index finger. "We're both idiots." He acknowledged out loud before pressing their lips together.


	10. December 10th - A Brother

December 10th - A Brother

Greg shifted onto his back and woke up slowly. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling as he thought of yesterday. He had been so worried that Mycroft hated him because he couldn't control his feelings but that hadn't been the case at all. Mycroft had kissed him. Actually pressed his lips to Greg's.

Greg smiled.

Mycroft had kissed him so softly and Greg had never felt more complete. Then, as should have been expected, Mycroft's phone had beeped twice.

Greg understood. Work always came first when you had such a powerful job. Greg's job wasn't even anywhere near the level Mycroft's was - whatever that happened to be - but he still put his job first. That had been the problem with his wife, but he didn't want to think about that.

Mycroft had smiled that adorable smile and left however reluctantly.

Greg remembered all of this as he got dressed for his shift at the yard and found himself in an extremely happy mood for the first time in… well, he couldn't remember a time he had been so happy. And it was only one kiss.

Sally was the first to comment on his good mood that morning. The Detective was sat at his desk scrolling through a file on the computer - such handy things, those - and his lips were curled into a blissful smile. He didn't notice Donavan walk in until she spoke.

"You seem cheery today, boss. Get lucky last night?" She asked with a smirk. No subtlety with this one!

Greg sat back from the monitor and looked up at Sally, almost mortified. Almost. "No, Donavan! Ugh. I don't think that would have been any of your business anyway, sergeant!" He put stress on the word sergeant to express how he felt about the current topic of conversation.

"What? I just thought you looked as happy as I feel."

"Too much information, Donavan!" He blanched and pointed a finger to his office door. "Get out!" He grimaced as he thought about her words again, "Out, out, out!" He shooed her away.

When she left Greg set his mind back to the work on the screen in front of him. "Some decency is all I ask for, geez." He whispered to himself.

With thoughts of Sally's conversation firmly destroyed, his smile soon returned. He didn't even realise he was doing it again until the one man turned up who would ruin his day.

"Lestrade!" Greg heard Sherlock bellow from across the hall to his office. Lestrade really wasn't ready for this conversation with said Holmes. Now or never, though, right?

Thinking of Sherlock's brother had him smirking again.

"Ugh. John! Now he's at it!" Sherlock shouted to his loyal friend when he entered Lestrade's office unbidden. "Mycroft was unusually nice this morning and I don't think I can handle a happy Detective."

John came in behind Sherlock and grinned at Lestrade. John and Greg had become sort of friends through Sherlock's mutual acquaintance and had been out a few times. The usual down the pub was all they did, though. Not much of a friendship compared to Mycroft'. Greg really wasn't in the mood for Sherlock and his mind wandered again.

"John, make it stop." Were the words that brought Greg out of his trance and he quirked an eyebrow at John. Sherlock had called his name as though he was a petulant child, sounding the word as 'Jawn'. Not that he was saying Sherlock wasn't a petulant child.

"Make what stop?" Greg asked, speaking for the first time. "Am I not allowed to be happy?"

Sherlock flopped into one of the chairs facing Greg's desk and stared at him. "Why would you be happy? Unhappy marriage turned into a messy divorce. Four months looking as miserable as a lost puppy and now you have something to smile about? This could be interesting." Sherlock leaned forward, resting his hands on the edge of Lestrade's desk. "John. Pull up a chair." He invited the Doctor.

Greg leaned back in his own chair and stared right back at Sherlock. He knew this was even better than talking because everything he was thinking would show up on his face, like a map for Sherlock to read.

"Hmmm. Interesting." Sherlock muttered under his breath. Greg must have given something away.

Trying not to think of Mycroft made him think of Mycroft and his soft lips and… damn it, that wasn't helping.

"You looked very alert when I mentioned Mycroft earlier." Sherlock observed. Greg curled his fingers on one hand into a fist and Sherlock's eyes immediately found the action. Sherlock stood, looking physically sick.

"You and my brother? You actually…" He cut himself off before he said it but caught Lestrade's face and smirked a little. "Ah. You didn't." And he was off through the door, just like that.

John hadn't moved from his place near the door and he looked completely puzzled but he waved his hand a little in Greg's direction as he left, following Sherlock.

Greg sighed as he fell back into his chair.

Sherlock would come round eventually. He'd probably see the blackmail material he had on his brother and come sneaking back in for more private information on the elder Holmes.

That smile crept right back onto his face, however, when he thought of Mycroft. Damn it, what that man did to him.

_**-o-**_

_**I hope you enjoyed this snippet. If it's a bit choppy it's because I'm deciding where to take this lovely pair next.**_

_**I wish I was a better writer and give this lovely otp a break.**_

_**DoctorOCD**_


	11. December 11th - A Step

December 11th - A Step

It wasn't often that Mycroft and Greg had free time, never mind time off at the same time, so the friends had always jumped at the opportunity of grabbing at least a quick visit before the other was off again.

This day wasn't any different and Greg was actually surprised at how much they had caught each other's company over the last few days.

He was feeling quite cold now it was closing in on Christmas, but he couldn't help but grin into his polystyrene cup of hot chocolate, no matter how nervous he was also feeling. He couldn't wait to see the other man again, so much it was probably unhealthy.

As he sat at their usual table at the café once more, he stared at the door, waiting for Mycroft Holmes to walk in and demand everyone's attention with his very presence. Greg got caught up so much in trying to think about what would happen when Mycroft walked in, he missed it actually happen.

He jumped when he felt a soft pressure on his shoulder and he looked up into the eyes of the man. A nervous smile broke onto his face. He got lost in those sea blue swirls and forgot how to speak.

"Gregory?" Mycroft spoke first, although he was stuck staring at Greg with his hand on his shoulder still.

The words from Mycroft attracted Greg's eyes downwards until he was looking at those thin, pink lips. The very ones that had pressed against his just two days ago. At that, Greg blushed and motioned to the seat opposite him.

"Mycroft." Greg nodded to the other man.

Mycroft's hand slowly lifted off Greg's shoulder but strayed enough that his fingers trailed along his shoulder blades lightly. He took his seat, never taking his eyes off Lestrade. "How are you?" He asked politely as always.

Greg found his words and thought about the questions posed yesterday. Well, not questions but staring contest with the elder Holmes' younger brother. "I think Sherlock knows." He eventually says. He doesn't know why he said 'think' because he's pretty certain that, yes, Sherlock Holmes knew a lot. But not as much as Mycroft did, with his position.

Mycroft just rolled his eyes, granting a fond smile, and leant forward in his chair, resting his arms on the table. "Yes, I rather enjoyed the conversation Sherlock and I had. Well, I say conversation…"

Greg doesn't think he's ever heard Mycroft leave a sentence hanging before and reminded himself to remember this moment when the other man was being particularly enthusiastic with his vocabulary.

He also doesn't remember their talks being so awkward yet comfortable at the same time. It's almost confusing in a good way.

"He came to see you? What did he say?" Greg suddenly asked, feeling yet another blush creep across his cheeks but leant forward into Mycroft's space anyway. Almost as if hiding their conversation from the rest of the café, even if he didn't care who knew, he didn't know if Mycroft was one for public yet.

"He said enough." Mycroft replied cryptically and rested his head on a hand, his elbow on the table.

Greg blushed a deeper red even though he was confused as to what Mycroft actually meant. Would he have said anything about him smiling dopily all day? But it was okay if he had. Sherlock had said Mycroft was 'unusually nice', that had to mean he was happy too. Greg allowed himself a small quirk of the corner of his mouth at the thought and Mycroft caught it. Obviously.

"Do not worry, Gregory." Mycroft assured, "Nothing he had to say was particularly embarrassing for yourself."

But Greg was more shocked by the simple action Mycroft had just completed. It was so unprofessional and relaxed that Greg had to look twice to make sure he hadn't just imagined Mycroft hold his head up with a hand underneath his chin.

Mycroft was still staring at him as if he was a fascinating puzzle just waiting to be solved. That was exactly as Mycroft saw him, an anomaly. But it wasn't all Mycroft saw in him. He saw a wonderful man; soft, kind and gentle with everyone. He also saw the Detective Inspector that would chase a man down, even if it meant risking his own health for the justice the victims deserved. Dead or alive.

Mycroft saw a whole world within this one man and he would not let go so easily. He would push his limits for Gregory and test his cleanliness, his penchant for order and organisation, his very person to be with this brilliant man.

He knew how deep and sentimental that was considering this feelings were new and unused to being in full throttle or under any use at all. He knew how much he was placing on the line but he also knew his friend. His new wonder. He would risk everything on this trust.

He leant over and placed his hand over Gregory's.

Greg turned over his hand and threaded their fingers together with a smile and a spark in his eyes.

One step at a time.

**_-o-_**

**_My feelings towards this chapter are mixed so I'm going to jump into the deep end and shout TA DAA! ;)_**

**_DoctorOCD_**


	12. December 12th - A New You

December 12th - A New You

Mycroft sat in his office which was quite the rare occurrence with his travelling work load and the amount of very important people he has to negotiate with in short time. He was working through some high level security documents on his computer while double checking them with his memorised version.

Even though he had such a work load, he couldn't help being distracted by thoughts of a certain Detective Inspector and their rather amazing 'first date'.

When Gregory had interlocked their fingers, Mycroft had been ecstatic. Such a small gesture meant so much to him. Mostly because he had never been in a proper relationship before and the fact that Greg had but wasn't pushing him into anything. If anything, Gregory looked in much the same predicament as him: loving the moment but held back by nerves.

Mycroft wondered whether it would be too much if he asked Gregory round for dinner at his flat tomorrow evening. Surely Gregory wouldn't mind since they had been to each other's places anyway. It wasn't much different except they were together now. Or would that make it awkward? The possibility of it becoming more if they only moved down the hall.

No. Gregory wouldn't think like that and even if he did Mycroft wouldn't be pushed into anything. HE had already established this with himself.

Mycroft checked his agenda with 'Anthea' (as she was called today. She was obviously fond of the name as she kept returning to it) and she assured that he was free and would make sure it stayed so for both him and Gregory.

He replied with a thank you and an invitation for a day off, which she never took - no different today - while he changed the file he had been reading. Computers were not to be trusted with keeping official secrets. He tutted.

Since he had taken up the courage to kiss Gregory, he had often found his mind wondering at inopportune moments but in his office he was safe to allow it to stray a little.

Finding himself thinking about what he would do when he next saw Gregory had him grinning and blushing at his monitor like a loon.

It was that moment at which 'Anthea' stepped into his office without knocking as he usually heard the tell tale signs of her approaching. This time she stood in the door way shocked and watching her boss smile stupidly at his screen.

Of course she had seen him smile before but only ever a fake smirk put on for foreign dignitaries, the prime minister and the royals. She didn't recall ever seeing him genuinely smile and that made her smile, too.

She knew about the Detective Inspector that her boss was seeing and had seen it in his eyes sometimes that he had been more than fond of him for a long time. She was happy that he was finally happy but she cleared her throat to announce her presence. She didn't wish to embarrass the boss by acknowledging his ignorance to her entry but she also couldn't help but mention something about his cheerfulness.

"You seem very happy, sir."

When Mycroft heard the noise he looked up looking a little worried with himself for not deducing her approach but his smile slowly graced his face again when he saw his assistant stood by the door.

He thought about her comment and the cause of his positive attitude with a wistful look. Thinking about spending this Christmas season with Gregory gave him the most wonderful sense of finally being… of finally just being. He knew, then, that as long as he was with Gregory, he would never tire of life again.

"Yes, my dear." He answered her truthfully, leaning back in his chair and sighing, "Yes, I am."

And Anthea liked the Inspector for that. Mentally thanked whatever power brought these two together.

"It looks good on you."

**_-o-_**

**_Here's to the 12th day of the 12th month of 2012 ! :D_**


	13. December 13th - A Good Cook

December 13th - A Good Cook

Mycroft had finally driven away his doubts and insecurities, deciding to call Gregory and invite him for that dinner. "I'm cooking." He said to him over the phone and gasped melodramatically when Lestrade commented warily about eating Mycroft's food before.

So Mycroft chose to cook up something simple to make but amazing on the taste buds. He thought about what Gregory liked and decided upon making his favourite. Spaghetti Bolognese.

Of course everything he needed had already been bought and stored by A: She hadn't decided on a name today.

He could be quite the cook when it suited him to throw together his own meals but it didn't happen very often with having tea with important people and being invited to dinners out with different politicians and assistants. Mycroft found the art of cooking quite relaxing. His brain would settle on this matter and be free of the day's events.

He didn't want his mind to settle today, however, and those thoughts were answered by a knock on his door. The DI was stood on the other side of it grinning up at him. "Hey, there."

"Hello, Gregory." He said, his face holding his own smile. He gestured inside , "Do come in."

Greg nudged himself passed Mycroft, probably a little closer than was really necessary with the space available.

"What have you got there?" Mycroft enquired and pointed at the bottle in Gregory's hand.

He held the bottle up and offered it to Mycroft, "I thought it was polite to bring something as the guest."

"A wonderful choice." Mycroft approved.

"Chianti."

"And best served with pasta, I believe."

Mycroft moved back to the kitchen and allows the inspector to follow, showing him to the chairs at the island table.

Greg made a show of trying to see over Mycroft's shoulder, who had gone back to mixing something in a pan, from where he was sat.

The cook chuckled and says, "In all good time, Detective."

But Greg could smell something amazing. He didn't have the best sense of smell ever since he was cracked in the face with a huge metal pole a few years back but he knows when something's good.

After setting out the meals on plates, making a fuss over making sure Gregory didn't see until it was placed in front of him, Mycroft turned and did just so.

The man at the table looked up at Mycroft in surprise and his smile, showing teeth, warmed Mycroft's heart.

"How did you know?" Greg asked him.

Mycroft sat down opposite Greg. He tutted and rolled his eyes in response, but he was fighting a smile so nothing was meant by it. "I do observe things, Gregory."

"Yeah, but…" He waved a hand, gesturing to the food but gave up and gripped Mycroft's right hand with his left across the table. "Thanks, Myc." He opted for and squeezed his hand.

They held each other's hands for a while, trying to eat just with the other. It would have worked with something smaller since Greg was right handed and Mycroft, being Mycroft, was ambidextrous. However, spaghetti was a fiddly, difficult food to deal with using only one hand. They let go but kept glancing at each other and smiling shyly when they were caught looking.

Their conversation was light while they ate and the topics went from Mycroft's cooking skills to Greg's thoughts on his latest case.

When they had both had their fill, Gregory wiped his mouth with a napkin and thanked Mycroft again. "That was amazing. I do believe I will be coming here again." He complimented the other.

Mycroft dumped the plates in the sink where they looked out of place compared to the cleanliness of the rest of the kitchen. He didn't usually do that but the washing could wait while Gregory was here. He caught the other man as he giggled softly and asked what was so funny.

"I would have thought an almighty powerful man such as yourself would have a dishwasher." He confessed, though when he said it out loud it didn't seem so funny.

Mycroft didn't answer him, only shook his head and took Gregory's hand back, dragging him gently from his chair. "Television?" He asked instead.

"Sure."

They settled on the couch, starting sat upright and pressed shoulder to shoulder. As the programme became slow paced and uninteresting, they both shifted under the pretence of getting comfortable but they moved closer and relaxed more.

By the time the adverts came back on, Gregory was half lay, draped across Mycroft and their arms had wound around each other. Mycroft pressed a kiss into Greg's hair and Greg looked up at him. He pulled the other man down to meet him and their lips pressed together. It lasted a lot longer than their first awkward time and both sighed contentedly.

"We forgot that when I came in." Greg commented. Mycroft hummed and they settled down again.

Both had fallen asleep, warm and comfortable in each others arms, before the next programme started.


	14. December 14th - A Morning

**_Sorry this is so late, guys._**

**_I'm also thinking of editing this chapter a little ... Tell me what you think :)_**

**_-o-_**

December 14th - A Morning

It was about 3 o'clock in the morning. Moonlight shone through the gap in the curtains and the television flickered silently, casting a glow over the sleeping men.

Mycroft woke first when Gregory shifted next to him, being quite a light sleeper. He couldn't move to get up though as Greg was still half draped across him and he hadn't the heart the disturb him.

He ran a hand through Greg's hair and marvelled at how comfortable they had been together. They seemed like they had been together for years but it had only been a few days. He pressed a kiss in to Gregory's hair and watched him sleep.

Greg looked so peaceful when he slept. His mouth was slightly open as he breathed through it, his chest rising and falling, and his hands fisted in Mycroft's shirt. Those creases around his eyes that appeared because of the stress of his job, disappeared. Mycroft left him to sleep. He definitely needed and deserved it.

Mycroft must have nodded off again because when he next opened his eyes, light was streaming into the room instead and Gregory was looking up at him. His arms were folded on Mycroft's chest and his head rested on them.

"Good morning." Gregory greeted, holding back a yawn.

The Government looked down at Greg and smiled. "Good morning."

Lestrade noticed his hair was stuck up a little where they had slept. He reached up and ran his fingers through it, making it stick up even more and he let out a breath that would have been a giggle if he didn't yawn again.

Mycroft noticed that Greg was still tired but he needed to move. The couch had become uncomfortable and he realised the crick in his neck.

"We should move, Gregory." Mycroft started as he began to stand, pulling Gregory easily with him. "We could always move to somewhere more comfortable." He suggested, making sure Greg knew he meant sleep.

Greg took his hand and squeezed to show he understood and agreed. "That would be most welcome." He answered, imitating Mycroft and earning him a jab in the ribs.

Mycroft pulled him along and they shuffled to the bedroom. Greg pulled off his shirt and Mycroft removed his waistcoat before they both climbed into Mycroft's big bed. There was nothing sexual about it, neither even thought about it.

Anyone may have thought they may have moving fast, sharing a bed, even if they weren't doing anything but they had known each other for years and it just felt like the most natural thing to do now they knew each other's feelings. It just felt right.

They crawled under the duvet and pulled close to each other, wrapping their arms around the other. Mycroft resting his head on Gregory's shoulder and drew patterns on the other man's chest.

He hummed and kissed the place where neck met shoulder and settled down.

Both fell asleep once more in the early morning light.


	15. December 15th - A Midnight Call

December 15th - A Midnight Call

After a day lazing about, cuddling and kissing, just getting comfortable with each other, Greg had to go on a night shift. Mycroft offered to get someone to cover for him but Greg refused. He wanted to stay more than anything but he didn't want to leave the other officers with a rampaging Sherlock at all hours, Mycroft agreed with that.

So at some time early morning - He didn't quite know the time, being busy and all - Greg was falling asleep at his desk. He had just gotten rid of Sherlock who was ranting about Greg not having any cases in 'Bloody Scotland Yard of all places!'.

That was strange since people seemed to be rushing about outside his office. He just assumed that all the other people up were from different divisions. Perhaps CID were working on something.

Greg had paperwork to do. _Again. Where did it all come from? _Were his incredulous thoughts.

It wasn't helping, though, that he had been up for the most part of the last 24 hours and his eyes had a mind of their own.

He must have fallen asleep at some point even if he was shouting at himself in his head to _Don't sleep. Don't sleep. You don't need sleep. _Because he was woken up by the smell of coffee - Good coffee - and something sweet.

He lifted his head, which had been on his crossed arms on the desk, and looked up. Right there in his office was the one person he was not going to shout at for disturbing his… work. Stood there, with two cups of coffee and a paper bag was Mycroft.

Greg's confused, sleepy expression turned into a tired smile. "Hello, handsome."

Mycroft had been watching Gregory sleep. He really didn't ever have the heart to wake him but he didn't have to as Greg lifted his head and greeted him. He placed the coffees on Lestrade's desk and opened the paper bag.

He gave a shy smile back and blushed a little. Gregory had called him handsome. "Hello, Gregory." He took a seat opposite the DI's desk but pulled it closer. "I thought you might like company so I brought coffee and doughnuts."

Greg pulled his chair towards the desk so he could sit up straighter but still lean on something, plus be closer to Mycroft. "You," Greg leaned over the table for a second to kiss Mycroft, he couldn't resist, "Are the best."

Mycroft just blushed more - it was quite adorable - and pushed a cup towards Gregory. Greg took it gratefully and sipped at it, giving a sigh of contentment. The nights were cold but this coffee was perfect.

Mycroft didn't usually eat sugary desserts so he only got the one. He pushed the bag towards Greg too and picked up his own coffee, sipping slowly.

"I thought you might like to know that Sherlock will not be bothering you for a while, now." Mycroft finally spoke.

Greg looked up and his brows creased together. "Why? Have you given him one of your cases or something?"

Mycroft tilted his head and shrugged. "Or something." He answered.

Greg just shook his head and smiled. "Alright, Mr Secret Agent. Keep your secrets." He was tempted to stick his tongue out.

Mycroft raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "I am no Secret Agent, Gregory."

Lestrade just shrugged as if he didn't believe him but held out half the doughnut to him. "Here. Eat." Mycroft was very lucky to be offered a doughnut from Greg and he knew Mycroft knew that.

The other man hesitated and looked up at Greg quickly before looking back down and taking it with nimble fingers. He nibbled at it like it was going to bite him if he ate too quickly but when he was finished he licked his fingers clean. Greg shifted hen he did and noticed that there was some jam in the corner of his mouth.

The urge to wipe it himself was too strong to resist and so he did. Greg leaned over his desk again to brush at the jam with his thumb before bringing it to his own lips and sucking it from the end

Mycroft turned a bright pink which Gregory thought suited him well. Greg thought about what else could make him turn that shade when Mycroft cleared his throat and leant on the desk, his head in his hand and his elbow on the desk, again.

Greg marvelled at the other man, his eyes shining as he watched him. Mycroft sighed happily as he watched Gregory and drank his coffee. Both ended up staring at each other for a while, both having the same thoughts that brought smiles to their faces. Both men realised they loved each other but neither could say anything out loud.

_It's too soon._


	16. December 16th - A Nice Surprise

December 16th - A Nice Surprise

Mycroft had told Gregory that he had to leave the country for a while on business. He couldn't divulge what business but he could express how important it was. Greg wasn't even sure he was allowed to know the country, Mycroft had been so reluctant to tell him, but he had none the less.

While Mycroft was abroad Lestrade stayed at home, a proper day off. Even if they phone him and tell him that Sherlock is wreaking havoc around London or some new gang is shooting at each other, he won't be going in work today.

Lazing about the house all day on his own, though, wasn't the same. Now he had been with Mycroft almost everyday, it didn't feel quite the same to be sat on his own. He was bored and didn't know what to do with himself.

He was lay on his couch watching television in his underwear and a t-shirt at mid-afternoon. It didn't seem as comfortable or enjoyable without a warm body pressed against his.

What he wasn't expecting while he was - although he wouldn't admit it - feeling a little bit sorry for himself without his… Friend? Boyfriend? Partner? Was when there was a knock on the door.

He wouldn't have been expecting it even if he was up and alert because his flat was on the second floor and the door to the building was fitted with buzzers. He would have to buzz someone up before they could get into the building.

Greg switched his TV onto mute and rolled of the couch to answer the door. He didn't bother trying to change into anything decent, there wasn't time. He just stood behind the door as he pulled it open and popped his head around it, hoping it wasn't someone like Sherlock or worse, his sister.

As it turned out it was a much better prospect and Greg's features burst into a huge smile. He flung the door open and wrapped his arms around other's middle, burying his face into the chest in front of him.

"I thought you were going away?" Greg's voice was muffled as he asked and pulled them both into the flat.

"Oh, would you rather I left?" Mycroft answered teasingly and Gregory snorted and slapped him playfully.

"Nu-uh. Nope. You're not going anywhere."

Mycroft chuckled and sat down with Greg, their arms stayed around each other. Greg was unbelievably happy not Mycroft had come but that question was still bugging him and he needed to ask.

"Mycroft?" He asked into his chest as he carried on hugging the other man. "What are we?"

Mycroft was confused and just waited for Greg to elaborate.

"Well, um… Can I call you my boyfriend?" Greg couldn't believe how hard that was to ask but he had done it now and waited patiently for Mycroft to think it over.

Mycroft smiled at the thought although Gregory couldn't see it so he pulled him closer instead.

"Yes. Yes, I quite like that."


	17. December 17th - A Family

December 17th - A Family

It was the 17th of December. Including today it was 8 days : 192 hours : 11520 minutes : 691,200 seconds until the day that the big guy in the red suit was supposed to climb his chimney and deliver those presents under the tree before eating his cookies and drinking his milk as well as feeding his reindeer those carrots left at the bottom of the stairs or on the mantle piece.

That's what Greg expected when he was six. Running down the stairs in his pyjamas, as soon as he woke up, to see if Santa had been. Of course he had always come. Amazing new toys, flashy new clothes, and great new games. He would open his presents with his sister and his mum and dad watched by the side, exchanging their own little presents. Later, they would go round to his dad's parents, the proper Lestrade's who spoke French! That was cool to a six year old Greg.

That was all in the past now though. His dad passed away and his mum wasn't the same anymore. Of course, he still saw his grand-père sometimes but everyone else was gone.

The enormity of that realisation didn't hit quite so hard when he was with Mycroft. It hadn't been that long since they had finally gotten together but they had known each other for years. Mycroft was his family now. He liked that.

Maybe he would invite Sherlock and John round. John would make sure Sherlock was civil and they could have a proper Christmas meal at his.

Mycroft remembered Christmas very differently. Sherlock, the very excitable child, would enter his big brother's room at an ungodly hour and jump around with glee. The brothers stayed in Mycroft's room and exchanged their own gifts in the privacy of the bedroom.

The elder Holmes loved the absolute joy on Sherlock's face every year when he opened the one thing he wanted that only Mycroft could deduce. Sherlock would also get Mycroft something, even if that meant raiding his own brother's cash accounts for the money. Mycroft loved those moments. The moments when he didn't have to be grown up.

The best present Sherlock had ever gotten him was the fob watch that he still carried around in his waistcoat pocket, complete with chain. (When Sherlock had grown up and they had turned to their own distant ways, he would always chastise Mycroft for being sentimental).

Mycroft would allow Sherlock the wonder of Christmas time until it was appropriate for them to get up and go to the drawing room where the family would gather. They dressed before going downstairs as it wasn't 'proper' for them to be up without being in formal attire.

Father would sit in his armchair in the corner reading his newspaper as if the day was any other but mummy would always sit with them and present them both with one gift. One of those gifts had been the umbrella he was always found with from then on although he had later fitted it with a hidden blade.

He loved mummy for trying on Christmas and other holidays for it was hard for her to try with father being… well, a Holmes.

This year, though, he had Gregory.

Gregory would never replace Sherlock as his family but he could certainly join them. Perhaps he would host a family Christmas dinner and hope to high heavens that Sherlock would behave.

Greg decided to visit the younger Holmes brother and make sure John hadn't killed him yet or that he hadn't killed John with one of his chemical fires.

When he knocked on, he was answered by the land lady, Mrs. Hudson. A lovely lady that always called his Inspector even though she was invited to call him Greg or even Lestrade. She always made them tea, too.

Mrs. Hudson allowed him in and showed him up the stairs but before he reached the top he could tell he was walking into a hostile situation. There was indistinguishable shouting coming from Sherlock and warnings coming from John but it didn't sound like they were talking to each other.

"Oh, dear." Was Mrs. Hudson's comment. Before she could explain the door swung open and stood in the doorway was Mycroft. And before Greg could do anything, Mycroft was upon him, caressing his neck and pulling him into a passionate kiss.

Lestrade immediately melted into the contact but Mycroft pulled away and turned to smirk at Sherlock who looked horrified before shutting the door in their faces and leaving the two stood awkwardly on the stairs.

Mycroft actually blushed when Greg looked to him for an answer but he took Gregory's hand and urged him down the stairs, out of the door and into the waiting car.

"What was that?" Greg finally managed to ask but the smile on his face showed quite clearly that he didn't mind at all.

"You were helping me make a point." Mycroft said and he tapped the partition to the driver with his umbrella. The car pulled out into traffic and he sighed. "And asking Sherlock to come for Christmas didn't go well." He admitted.

Greg couldn't help the little insecure feeling and a disappointed feeling as he wondered why Mycroft hadn't asked him but dismissed it as they hadn't been together for two week so there was no point in thinking like that.

Mycroft noticed that, though and took the DI's hand in his, pulling him closer. He wrapped an arm around Greg's shoulders and basked in Greg being so close. "I asked him if he would join _us_ for Christmas." He explained.

It took Greg a moment to understand but when his brain caught up, he twisted his head to look at Mycroft properly without moving away, that brought their faces quite close. "Really?" He asked softly with a smile forming in the corners of his mouth.

"Really." Mycroft replied and smiled, pulling Gregory up for a gentle, loving kiss.

Greg pulled away slightly to say, "He'll come round."

Mycroft pondered over that for a second. "Maybe I want you all to myself."

"I'm fine with that too."


	18. December 18th - A Gift

December 18th - A Gift

It was one week until Christmas and Lestrade was wondering what to get Mycroft. He couldn't afford anything too big and flashy and he didn't think Mycroft would like him to spend so much on him. Greg wanted to get him something small but something that said all the things he wouldn't say yet.

Wandering the high streets of London and window shopping had seemed like a good idea when he was sat in his office. Lestrade thought it would give him an idea. Now, though, navigating through the heaving crowds of last minute shoppers, Greg couldn't even see the windows without stopping and then he would get hit and pushed aside.

Greg had always hated shopping and he usually didn't bother with Christmas. Just a card to his granddad and his sister and that one time he got one for Mycroft and received a surprised smile in return. He would bother with the trivialities of Christmas for Mycroft, though.

Well, he thought he would be able to do this for Mycroft but he was on the verge of giving up. There must be other, simpler ways to buy a gift for his boyfriend.

When Greg came to the end of the street he was on and saw the masses gathered around the corner, he decided to turn back and make his way back to his car. He carried on looking around for inspiration.

It wasn't until he approached his car and opened it with a beep using the button on his keys, that he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. On display in the shop adjacent to his parked car was the perfect present. He smiled and dashed across the road to avoid the traffic, entering the shop with a friendly smile.

-o-

Mycroft was in much the same predicament. He only ever got something small for his assistant and even then it sometimes wasn't in physical form; it was sometimes a day off or a wild compliment in front of a very important person.

He hadn't gotten Sherlock anything since he was 23, Sherlock 13. They had simply grown apart when Mycroft moved to University. Sherlock blamed him for leaving him with their father and an overprotective mother. The act of gift exchange between the Holmes brothers had lost it's childhood excitement and glee. It just wasn't the same.

Now, however, he understood that Gregory would appreciate the gesture as a part of the change in their relationship.

He knew Gregory would not like him to buy him something expensive, especially as Greg didn't have much of his own to spend. Mycroft would see about Lestrade's wages when he had time…

As Mycroft knew from when he shared presents with Sherlock when they were little, he always was good with knowing what to get the other but for Gregory it was harder. It had to be perfect. It had to be.

He would also see to this task personally. No making his minions track around London - or even the world, if it came to that - for the ideal present. He would think on it a while or perhaps ask Anthea.

_**-o-**_

_**Ahh! I'm really sorry I didn't post yesterday but I've been so busy with last minute coursework and a full week of mock exams before Christmas. And now I'm behind by a day… I shall make it up at Christmas!**_

_**DoctorOCD**_


End file.
